I never even really broke up with Todd; that’s how serious it ended up being in the end, or at least for him. I found out he was dating someone else when it showed up on a gossip website. It was a gorgeous photo taken of him one night when he was out with, according to the caption, his girlfriend. I know that the press will get a photo of a celebrity and then try to make more of it than what it seems, but this time was different.
Different because he’d told me he was home sick. Different because he’d sworn to me there wasn’t anyone else even though there were rumors. Different because I’d emotionally let my heart get attached to him. I believed him. Trusted him. And he lied.
Sighing, I hold my shoulders up and square them off. I promised myself after that photo and the subsequent cuttinghim out of my life that I wasn’t going to get sucked in like that again.
So, sorry, Jake December. That is why I won’t date ice hockey players. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
FOUR
Riley
“And that’s the menu?”
Angling myself in the passenger seat to face my dad, I fight to not screw up my face. “That’s all you can say? I’m starting with a wild mushroom salad, foraged from local sources, and a potato flan drizzled with truffle cream. I’ll do a scoop of sherbet to cleanse the palette, before the main course truffle madness, with a sprinkling of chicken, begins.”
“Sprinkling of chicken. Is that a thing now?” He winks at me, leaning over to squeeze my arm as he turns down the familiar street to our house. “Just kidding, sweetie. It sounds perfect. I think working with the Porter family and using their truffles and mushrooms is a great way to collaborate with local businesses, too. Are all of the ingredients you’re using coming from producers in the area?”
“They sure are.” I smile, knowing he approves. I want my mom to like it, too, but Dad’s the one I learned from growing up. I used to love hanging with him in the kitchen and helping him cook.
My dad has always been the kind of dad that other friends of ours were jealous about. Don’t get me wrong, my mom waspretty well-liked, too, but Dad always made life fun. And not just “Let’s go get ice cream” kind of fun, but fun like “You kids want a slip slide? Give me ten minutes.” And, sure enough, ten minutes later, he’d take us to the backyard where he would have set up a line of torn-up trash bags with our water hose spraying across it, laughing.
It wasn’t a water park, but it was pretty genius.
“So,” he says, pulling into the driveway of our house—our family house, not my house anymore since I moved out a few weeks ago and got my own place. However, to be fair, I’ll probably come back and steal some groceries sometimes because I like keeping my mom on her toes. “Do you have any idea when your car is going to be fixed, or do I need to be on taxi duty tomorrow, too?”
“Dubs texted me and said that the radiator was leaking. Luckily, it didn’t damage any hoses so it’s an easy fix. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.” Turning into our driveway, he slows the car to a halt and I see my brother’s car in the driveway. “Is Travis here for dinner tonight?”
“He gets back on the road soon,” Dad says, opening his door and hopping out. “Race ya inside?”
Laughing, I trail behind him. The old guy is always trying to stay active; I just pray he doesn’t trip running up the steps.
Following him in the open front door, a feeling of love hits my heart and a sense of comfort washes over me. The familiar scent of home—a blend of freshly baked cookies, hints of vanilla, and the earthy aroma of my mother’s favorite candles—greets me warmly, wrapping me in a cocoon of love and familiarity.
Stepping inside, I’m greeted by the soft glow of warm lighting and the gentle hum of family activity. The living room is a sanctuary of coziness, with plush sofas adorned with colorful throw pillows, inviting me to sink into their embrace.Photographs of cherished memories line the walls, each one a testament to the bond shared by those who inhabit this space.
As I navigate my way through the living room, I can hear Travis’s voice. It sounds like he’s outside, so I peek out the window to our back deck. Sure enough, he’s there leaning against the porch rail yammering away on his phone.
I slide the patio door open and step onto the deck, waving to him as I do. His face is super serious—his “I’m working face”—so I know to leave him alone. My hand flies to my forehead, stroking the spot where I’ve been known to wrinkle my nose when I’m in serious mode. Mom likes to remind me if I do it too much, I’ll end up needing Botox.
The door to the house opens behind me and Dad steps outside just as Travis hangs up his call. He waves his phone in the air.
“That was the toughest call I’ve had today.” He rolls his eyes, and Dad clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.
“A client?” Dad asks knowingly.
“It was Mom,” Travis says with a shudder, making us laugh.
“What does she want?”
“Volunteers,” Dad says as he puts a beer in Travis’s hand and cracks one open for himself. “Your mother is trying to help get a charity event organized for the local brothers and sisters group.”
“Like Big Brothers Big Sisters?” Laughing, I sit back and size my brother up. “If he needs references, I feel like I’ll need to step in and let people know as my big brother, he used to threaten to sit on my head and fart.”
“Har, har.” Travis snorts, throwing a pillow at my head. “I’ll have you know, I’d be a great Big Brother.”
“Again, as your little sister, let me be the judge of this.” My turn to snort as I plop down on one of the Adirondack chairs beside my dad. Best view of the actual Sweetkiss Creek is right here, from our backyard.
Sweetkiss Creek glistens under the soft hues of the setting sun, its waters flowing gently like liquid gold, reflecting the colors of the sky above. It’s a beautiful spring evening, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of blossoming flowers and freshly cut grass.
